Archive for October, 2013

Mom– What’s Going On!?!

By Dan Nielsen

for Sam Kinison

Climbing stairs is a way to lose weight,
But when I get back down—
I’ve gained it again!

The raccoon situation
Became intolerable when—
It let the air out of my tires!

She sent me a text message
With my name in parenthesis—
Knowing I’m claustrophobic!

Butter, which was originally intended
As a lubricant for anal sex—
Is sometimes used for food!

I said something terrible to her
And then I hit her on the head with a hammer—
Hoping to cause temporary amnesia!

Temporary amnesia can last for up to five years
At which point it is considered to be—
Regular amnesia!

I am in tune with my plants,
So when I eat potato chips—
I give them extra water!

I was trying to remember what I was doing
When it occurred to me that—
I don’t know what I’m doing!

Trying to describe an airplane to a bird
Is like trying to describe a submarine—
To a fish!

When I look at clouds all I can see
Are vaginas and penises—
Because I’m bi-sexual!

When salamander eggs begin to hatch
The first male is named—

If cars were made of Styrofoam
The worst thing about a crash would be—
The annoying sound!

I was born at midnight on New Years’ Eve
And my dad was drunk and wearing—
A funny hat!

Everyone cheered, and through the window
I saw thousands of people—
And they were cheering, too!

I said,
What’s going on!?!”

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Manfred Mann

By Dennis Mahagin

I love the Chopsticks part in “Blinded by the Light,”
one funky break, disguised as mistake, it makes a
great song sound better. Hear it in my head as I try
to write. Especially near the end, when they sing
lines in the round, I want to air-drum, hang, create
cover version, believing each day is mine, a new
phrase taking off, “another runner in the night…”
In this world of fake books, Eskimos, sheer unkind
and minefield, strobe light, they come at you
with calliopes in lieu of insight, same sonic tribulations
of Job, tone deaf, beaten down; and when you finally get
the hang, might wish to sing along … but it’s too late
to catch a second song, gone, gone; ripped up
the charts, breaks the heart like a bell, but Manfred, oh
man, something keeps putting it to me, religiously
bluesy keyboard patch, in vapors, in pieces,
a dream’s imperfection could never know what
it means the thing I see before going blind, pure
puddle, overcast, upside down sky and do I stomp
and buck and risk a splash? there “where the fun is”
the world is a cover, and it’s playing too fast.

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Multiple Poems

By Jeremiah Walton

Being human is alright. Never been anything else
There’s a phantom limb in this poem. I hope that says something
Psychologists have been executed by refusal
and fear.
I’m feeling a pain
that I ignore(d)
released from the mouths
attatched to my ribcage.

There is more
than the oyster shell city
I’m looking for pearls in.

Life is full of
shit booze and dirt
beautiful woman and
cars, skateboards
and knives. Dead friends
and dying friends. Heart squeels
and drunk passion, the only
passion I can evoke.

like being on an open mic and not knowing what to do with your hands
like groundings to small children

Being human is alright,
though I think I may
be a little odd. Find justification
for weird kids weirding weird kids out
and move on.

The phantom limb
is in this poem
somewhere. Keep

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